There's a part of Paris
that knows not what to do
and another one that is
just unaware of you
Chez Jeanette I sit
and sip invisible tea
to help me disappear
in Place d'Italie
An area of the city
knows exactly what I want
As goat's cheese melts into
my recently revived font
The right bank of my soul
leaks out water from the Seine
As the tears turn to laughter
the left bank holds it in.
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